


Surfing the Crowd to You

by nonsensedarling



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Apologies, Bottom Louis, Crowdsurfing, Explicit Sexual Content, Festival Worker Liam, Festival Worker Louis, Festivals, Fluff, Friendship, LADS NIGHT OUT, M/M, Music, Photographer Harry, Smut, Top Harry, also friendship fluff if that's a thing, also why is lads night out in all caps in this tag, i'm shit at summaries i guess!, just a bit, overworked Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 07:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20131252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonsensedarling/pseuds/nonsensedarling
Summary: Harry has been working non-stop for months and Niall and Zayn just want him to have a fun day at a music festival. As they're waiting in line to get in, a man with blue eyes steals his attention, and forgetting about work is a little easier after that.





	Surfing the Crowd to You

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this (my first fic!) just for fun to get the idea out of my head after I went to a music festival a few weeks ago. 
> 
> If you're familiar with Chicago, I sort of had The Aragon Ballroom in mind for the festival venue. I also made up all bands mentioned (as far as I know, no known bands have those names) and the lyrics to fit the fic. 
> 
> I don't know why, or if it came off entirely clear, but Harry and Niall are American, and Zayn and Louis have their regular accents and I have absolutely no idea where Liam ended up on the accent spectrum. 
> 
> Special shoutout to my friend dearlou for letting me ramble about this and every story idea that comes into my head!
> 
> ********************************************************************************************************************************

Harry is not normally a festival goer, by any means, and the only reason he’s here now is because Niall is dumb but also very convincing. 

It happened nearly two months ago, when they were out and drunk and Niall saw a flyer on the way out of the pub.

“The Flying Pop Sockers!” He ripped the paper down and waved it dramatically in front of Harry and Zayn’s faces. “Early Midnight Risers! _Kill ‘Em With Coolness_! Are you reading this band list?”

“No,” Zayn said, taking a cigarette out and lighting it up. His accent got thicker when they drank and that night was no exception. “Because you’re shouting them at us.” It’s meant to sound harsh and aloof, but he’s been drinking so he doesn’t think to hide his smile as much as he normally would. Zayn loves them, he does, but he knows if he smiles too easily it’ll encourage the pair far too much. 

“Are you _hearing_this list then! We have to go!” Niall’s eyes seemed a brighter blue in the yellow light as they walked down a side-street towards Harry and Zayn’s apartment. 

Harry took the paper from him as it waved in his face for the third time and scanned the list. Rage for Goats, Open Doorknobs and Electric Ditto are also there. It’s a good lineup, some of their collective favorites, and a couple that only Harry really likes. There’s just one major problem. 

“It’s an all-day festival. On a Wednesday.”

“_So_?!”

“So? We’ve got work?” 

Zayn is an artist with a couple of side gigs but he never has too many issues finding time off. Niall is a music teacher at a middle school, and sure, school is out for the summer, but that just means he’s at his seasonal gig that gives him approximately zero days off. “Home Depot,” he says, “is not more important than seeing Kill ‘Em With Coolness, Harry.” Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, but _my job_ is.” 

“Please,” Zayn had scoffed. He took one last drag of his cigarette before putting it out and sticking the stub of it in his pocket. Zayn hates littering and goes as far as to burn a hole in his clothes at least once a week to avoid it. “Like you won’t dream of skipping out of stupid back-to-school portaits at Macy’s come August.”

Harry furrows his brows. “I like my job,” he says. 

Zayn snorted. They’ve had this conversation too many times. “Yeah sure. You like bratty kids that won’t stay still and parents trying to tell you how to properly hold a camera.”

“Hey that’s not--” He tripped over a crack in the sidewalk and almost fell flat on his face, but he recovered. Both of his friends had an arm out in case Harry needed extra support to keep himself upright. “That’s not always true! Some of them are real cute.” 

“The kids or the parents?” Niall quipped. He’d already started cackling before Harry had properly started to glare at him. 

“You know he means the parents,” Zayn says, bright smile on his face now. “All those _daddies_doting on their kids.”

“Stop that,” he said, but when Zayn smiles, Harry has a hard time stopping himself from smiling as well. “I don’t have any time I can use to take off, anyway. And my boss will have my head if I call out sick.” 

“Oh!” Niall brightened. He actually skipped the next few steps. “Yes, just call out sick!” 

“No,” Harry said, firmly. Or at least he thinks it was firmly, he couldn’t fully feel his tongue. Damn Fireball shots. 

“Ah, come off it, Harry,” Zayn said. “How many more times are you going to get a chance to see your favorite bands all in one place with your favorite mates.”

“Yeah, before you know it, Zayn’s going to move away to New York or some shit like that, and I’ll have met a beautiful lady and be married and having too much sex to think of you.” 

Harry rolled his eyes and hiccoughed. “I don’t know,” he tried one last time. 

Niall started walking backwards and put his hands together in a sort of lopsided prayer. “Harry, Frantic Lemons is gonna be there. You love them!” Niall pulled out the puppy dog eyes and Zayn was just beaming at him, like he knew he didn’t have to try hard to convince anyone of anything looking like he does. “_Frantic_. _Lemons_.”

And he really does love them (the band and his friends), so Harry agreed. Niall and Zayn high-fived, and Harry tried to remember when Zayn got so invested in this plan, but he nearly tripped again so he refocused all his energy on walking. 

Niall bought the tickets that same night, right before passing out on Harry and Zayn’s couch. 

So now they’re standing in line, waiting to get into the venue, and Harry is grumpy and nervous. It’s 8am and Niall said he wasn’t allowed to call in until at least 10am (two hours before his normal shift-start) to make it seem more realistic. (_“Because if you woke up feeling sick, wouldn’t you wait a bit to make sure before calling off?”_ “I don’t know Niall.” _“Sure you do, I’m always right.”_ “That’s definitely not true.” _“Oh shut up, I am. Hey, do you think we should get a cinnamon roll before we head over?”_)

“Why are we here so early?” Zayn grumbles beside them. He’s dressed in all black, topped off with thick black sunglasses taking over nearly a third of his face. It fits the mood of the festival, but is also just Zayn’s normal aesthetic. 

“So we can get a good spot, obviously. You think I’m going to get stuck behind some obnoxiously tall person to see Electric Ditto? You know their famous dance move includes too much elbow, and I won’t be hit in the face, thank you very much.”

Zayn mumbles something about hitting Niall in the face himself, but Niall doesn’t comment. Harry keeps checking his phone for the time. 

“Harry, stop, it’s going to be _fine_.”

“Don’t you think if Liz hears all the people she’s going to be more suspicious than if I had called in sick before I left home, where it’s _quiet_?”

“Like I said before, we’re going to go to the bathroom, I’m going to be pretend barfing beside you, and then it’ll make it all the more believable that we both got food poisoning.”

“I thought you said we had the flu?”  
Niall waves his hand, like it doesn’t matter. “Whichever.”

“What time do doors even open?” Zayn asks. His tone is acidic, and Harry doesn’t think it’s from the black iced coffee he’s drinking. 

“10am,” Niall chirps.

“_Excuse_ me?” Zayn says.

Harry shakes his head and checks his phone again, trying to tune out the argument he’s expecting to follow. 

Suddenly, eyes halfway down to looking at the phone screen, he does a double take. A man in black skinny jeans and a dark grey Adidas t-shirt saunters past him. He’s got his hair perfectly messy, fringe sweeping across his forehead and a bit of stubble across his chin. Something that looks like an ID and a clearance badge hangs by a lanyard around his neck. When he looks up at Harry, almost like he can feel someone looking at him, Harry sucks in a breath at the breathtaking _blueblueblue_of his eyes. 

The man smiles a little at him and gives a little headnod in his direction. Harry thinks he might die from it. He watches the man move further up the line and then around the corner and presumably into the building; he doesn’t look back, and Harry tells himself he’s only mildly disappointed. 

When he looks back around, his friends have gotten quiet and both Niall and Zayn are smirking at him. 

“Yes?” he asks. 

Niall nods his head up towards the building’s corner. “Who was that?”  
“Who was who?”  
“The bloke you were stunned by,” Zayn answers. It seems his mood has lifted, now that he can tease Harry a bit. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Harry takes to straightening out his burgundy blouse so it hangs right. He wonders if he should unbutton another button...

“Come on, H, you went goo-goo eyes and didn’t even remember to obsessively look at your phone,” Niall says. “So do you know him? Or are we starting from ground level?”

“He doesn’t know him,” Zayn says confidently. “If he did, he would have tried to push it off as an acquaintance or something and given an excuse to not go after him. Do you think he’s in one of the bands?”

“He looks the type, for sure, but would a band member be strolling about hours before they’re set to go on in the open like this?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Hard to tell with this crowd. Maybe a roadie?”

“Ooo maybe _management_.” 

“PR personnel?”

“Venue manager!”

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” Harry finally says. His tone is a little sharper than he means it to be, and he winces at that. 

“We’re just messing around, mate,” Niall says. He pats him on the shoulder. “It’s nice to see you react to someone is all.”

Harry furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

His friends look at each other, and --after a beat-- Zayn is the one who speaks. “You’ve just been all about the work, recently, and it’s been cutting into everything else.”

“What do you mean?” He asks again. 

“Like, last week when you canceled on drinks,” Niall says. 

“I had a shoot to go to,” Harry replies.

“A freelance shoot where they didn’t pay you and overworked you for twelve hours.”

“It’s good experience,” he says defensively.

“We know, H, we know.” Zayn says. “But you’re 23, you know? And you should be having a bit of fun as well. The work is important, I get it, but we just don’t want you to miss out on opportunities because you’re trying to get somewhere with people who don’t appreciate your effort.” 

Harry takes a moment and then nods. “Yeah, I know. I’m here now, though, aren’t I?” He smiles at them. 

“Yeah, only because Niall told you the tickets were nonrefundable.” 

Harry’s smile turns into a grimace at that. He had, in fact, hinted at the beginning of the week that he might ask if he could bow out of this festival. He’d picked up another freelance project over the weekend and had to do some edits to the digital prints before sending them off. 

He is glad his friends didn’t let him get away with it, because they’re right. He should be taking a break and having some fun every now and then. 

“Right, well, I am here now. I promise.”

Niall beams at him, and Zayn has a sympathetic sort of smile on. He offers a sip of his iced coffee, which is big because Zayn never shares his caffeine. Harry takes it gratefully, tucking his phone away and does his best to check the time only half as often as he wants to. 

They make it inside and all agree on holding off on the drinks for another little bit since they’ll be here all day, and they want to scope out the vibe first. Niall and Zayn look at the first merch table while Harry makes his way to the bathroom to make his out sick phone call. 

When Harry reminds Niall that he’s supposed to be pretend puking, he simply says, “Nah, it’ll be more believable if it’s just you after all, I think.” But Harry can see that he’s eyeing the girl selling Electric Ditto merch and leaves him to his flirting. 

He locks himself in a stall and leans against the door. His manager, Liz, is surprisingly more understanding than he thought she’d be. 

_“Kyle came in sick on Monday, and got Lindsey and Ryan sick because of it, so we were short staffed in gardening on Tuesday. I’d rather you just stay home and feel better.”_

“Oh. Uh, thank you so much Liz. I’ll be in tomorrow.” 

_“It feels like a short one?”_ she asks. 

He feels like slapping himself. Right, he doesn’t _know_. Because he’s sick. “Hopefully. You know, not knowing how I’m going to feel. Because I’m sick.” He nearly does slap himself at that. Only holds it back because he doesn’t know how he’d explain the sound to his boss. 

_“Okay, keep me posted. Tonight, if possible. I’ll see if we can call in from another store.”_

“Will do. Thank you for being so understanding.”

_“Feel better, Harry.”_

“Okay, thank you. Goodbye.”

He hangs up and sighs, sinking a bit into the door. He hears the flush of a urinal and blushes a bit, somewhat embarrassed that a stranger heard him lying over the phone in the bathroom of a concert venue. 

When he exits the stall, hoping he looks appropriately apologetic, there’s a set of smiling brown eyes looking at him through the mirror reflection as the man washes his hands. “Call out sick to be here today?” he asks. 

Harry nods and starts to wash his hands too. Something about being in a public bathroom, even if he didn’t use anything, makes him want to make sure he’s clean. 

The man nods and chuckles a little. “We’ve all been there.” He grabs some paper towels and dries his hands off. 

He looks kind and not like he’s making fun of Harry, which is nice. He’s got short brown hair and is wearing jeans and a plain white t-shirt. He’s got the same kind of lanyard with the ID and badge that the Adidas man had. 

“My first time calling off,” Harry says, rinsing the soap from his palms. “I was a bit nervous.” The man grabs additional paper towels and hands them over to Harry. “Thanks...”

“Liam,” he says. 

“Harry,” Harry says, pointing to himself unnecessarily. 

“Ah, so are you one of those do-gooder types?” Harry is about to get _very_defensive and then the other man laughs. “Me too, mate. Tried to call off of work once and felt so guilty I called back an hour later to say I’d suddenly felt much better and I’d be in. Nearly made myself sick fretting over hit. Just one question for you though, why did you wait ‘til you got here to do it?”

Harry smiles as he throws his paper towels away. “Friend of mine thought it’d be more believable if it was closer to the start of my shift.”

Liam laughs. “Haven’t heard that one.”

Harry shrugs. “She bought it, so I’m off the hook now, anyway. Hopefully.”

“Right, well, I’ve got to get back out there. Unfortunately I did not call off sick today.” Liam waits for Harry’s polite chuckle to end before he says. “Nah, it’ll be a sick show. Pro-tip, if you hover around the third bar area next to the inflatable alien balloon in about 15 minutes, Zach Gallaway and Mike Hertz from Kill ‘Em With Coolness are going to come out and do some photos with fans.”

“Oh wow, thanks man.”

“For sure. Have fun.”

Liam breaks right and Harry turns left to go back to the merch table. Niall and Zayn are off to the side, holding up their purchases. Niall’s already stripping himself of his plain olive-green shirt to throw on his new purple The Flying Pop Sockers band shirt. 

“Took you awhile,” he says to Harry as he pops his head up through the top.

“Was chatting with a dude in there.” Zayn wiggles his eyebrows up and down for a few seconds before Harry makes a disgusted sound. “No, that that you idiot. He works here. Said Zach and Mike from KEWC are coming out to take photos.”

“No _shit_,” Niall says, opening his arms a bit for emphasis. “Fuck yeah, what are we waiting for?”

They make their way up the stairs into the giant open room that is the concert hall. Harry’s always loved this venue. It’s got built-in, castle-like structures and a wicked navy blue galaxy ceiling. They talked about redoing it a few years ago, but there was so much backlash from the community (who all denounced the need for something prettier for the sake of prettier) they dropped the project proposal fairly quickly. 

“Where do you think they’ll be?”

Harry looks around and says, “He said the third bar by the inflatable alien. Ah, over there!”

Sure enough, there is a human-sized green alien balloon near one of the pillars by the third bar from the left. They make their way over and stay around it, pretending that they’re taking photos with the inflatable. Not ten minutes later, Zach and Mike _and_Lily come out from around the side, led by Liam, waving at people as they pass. They stand near the closest pillar and Liam waves at Harry as they get in the line that’s already started to form in front of them. 

“Wow,” Zayn says, looking straight at Liam.

“I know,” Niall says. “Can’t _believe_ we’re going to get a photo with them this is _sick_.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zayn says. “Is that who you were talking to, H?”

Harry nods. “Yeah that’s Liam.” 

“Liam,” Zayn repeats. He puts a hand up to his chin, like he’s studying the way Liam’s biceps curve. And maybe he is, Harry can’t be sure. 

Harry smirks. “You alright there, Z?”

Zayn doesn’t look away as he says, “Of course I am.” Harry looks over at Niall, but he’s too busy bouncing on his toes to pay them any mind. Apparently he’s only good at teasing someone if it’s Harry.

“Man, Lily is so hot. How do you think she gets her hair to stay that purple all the time?”

“Probably hair dye, Ni.”

“Right, of course. I hope she has a purple marker. Do you think she’d sign my tricep?”

“What tricep?” Zayn says, and he expertly steps to the right, out of reach from Niall’s arm as it swings to hit him. 

The line moves steadily and suddenly they’re talking to Kill ‘Em With Coolness like it isn’t the coolest thing they’ve done all year. Niall kind of gapes at Lily Hodges, but sort of in a charming way. She laughs at him and does end up signing his tricep with _I could never put you down xx Lily_ as a reference to their biggest hit and Niall’s favorite song (“I am never washing this part of my body again,” he says afterward, to which Zayn replies, “Mate, that is too close to your armpit to be saying that.”). 

They chat easily for half a minute and then a girl with a cropped KEWC shirt behind them in line graciously takes their photo. Harry is elated to discover a dozen photos when he looks; girls are always the best at making sure you have options. 

A few minutes later, Liam wanders over to them, still keeping an eye on the band. “Frantic Lemons are going to come out around the other side in about 5, if you want to see them.”

“Oh my god,” Harry says. He looks to his friends. Niall looks excited, but in a passive kind of way (because they’re Harry’s favorite band and Niall only likes a couple of their songs) and Zayn looks like he’s trying to figure out how to remove Liam’s arms from his body. For what, Harry doesn’t want to know. 

“By the big blow up heart,” Liam says, pointing to the other side of the room. 

“Thank you!”

“No problem.” Liam waves again, and his eyes hover on Zayn for half a beat when Zayn turns away. 

As they walk towards the big pink heart, Zayn turns to Niall and asks, “Did he look at me?”

“What?”

He lets out a small half-frustrated noise. “_Liam_. Did he look at me?”

“Oh, uh, I didn’t notice. Sort of.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “You’re useless.”

Harry smirks and reminds himself to tell Zayn he did see Liam looking at him. While it’s annoying he gets the brunt of the teasing, he quite likes it when Zayn has a crush on someone; he gets all mushy and soft, heart eyes included. 

They stand closer to the pillar this time, instead of the heart, trying to gauge where the band will come from. They’re not as big as Kill ‘Em With Coolness, but they definitely have a cult following and Harry wants to have a full minute with them, if he can manage it. 

When they come out from around the corner, it’s not the band he recognizes first, though. It’s the Adidas shirt man, laughing along with all of them as Frantic Lemons make their way over. Instead of going by the pillar, however, Adidas man stop them in front of the big heart and hears him say in a loud, thick accent, “It’ll be proper nice in front of this, don’t you think?”

“Oh god.” Harry says quietly to himself. Zayn and Niall hear him and look up from their phones and in the direction he’s looking. They turn back towards each other and smile. 

“Looks like this is fate, H,” Niall says. “You can be charming and win over your favorite band and your new favorite man all in one go!”

“Oh god,” he says again. “I think I just have to ignore him. It’s too many things at once.”

“Woah, okay, Harry, it’s okay.” Zayn pats him on the shoulder. “No pressure mate, just go and be yourself.”

They’re closer in line this time because less people rushed to queue, but it just makes Harry more nervous. He watches Adidas man smile and banter with the band and the people that are taking photos; he’s like sunshine in the way that Harry thinks he’ll hurt his eyes if he doesn’t look away soon. 

When he’s next, he hands Zayn his phone to take the picture and then it’s his time. 

Adidas man’s eyes sparkle as he looks at Harry. “Hello, hello,” he says. 

“Hi,” Harry says back. His voice cracks and Harry groans internally at it.

“Hi!” Winnie, the lead singer, says to him. His nerves lessen a bit at her cheerfulness. He tells her he loves her voice, and tells the whole lot of them that they’ve been his favorite band for years. They all smile at him when he says it and the bassist even pats his arm in thanks. 

The band --all six of them-- are so lovely and they do chat with Harry for a full minute. He thinks he could stay longer, but he doesn’t want to be rude to those behind him in line. Harry stands in the middle and they make wacky faces at Harry’s request as Zayn takes the photo. 

He thanks them all again and tells them to have a good show. He makes eye contact with Adidas man again as he walks past, who drops his crossed arms, smiles and says, “See you later.” 

Harry blushes and gets twenty feet away before turning to make sure Niall and Zayn followed him. Zayn gives Harry his phone back, smirking at him again. “He’s into you,” he says. Niall nods at that. 

“I didn’t even say anything to him,” he says, dumbfounded.  
“Have a look,” Zayns says, scrolling through the recent photos to find ones of Harry chatting with the band. Harry is so grateful for Zayn; he’s caught some good ones, and even one where Winnie is looking at him with delighted shock as he makes an exaggerated sad face. 

“These are great!” Harry says. 

Zayn looks like he wants to roll his eyes, but he doesn’t. Then he zooms in on the photo he’s looking at, in on Adidas’ man’s face. He’s smiling lightly, arms crossed in front of his chest, and it looks like he’s looking at Harry. Looking at Harry very fondly, with the corners of his mouth twitched up and his eyes crinkled at the edges. 

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Harry says. “You can’t even be sure he’s looking at _me_.”

Zayn does roll his eyes this time, and scrolls back a few more, to when the bassist patted his arm. This time, Adidas man is frowning, eyebrows pinched a bit in the center, and his arms are a bit blurry, but it looks like he’s starting to cross them in this one. 

“Looked at you the entire time,” Niall says happily. “So we just gotta figure out how to get you over to him again. Maybe they’ll be doing more band meet & greets or something.”

“Yeah maybe,” Harry says. He smiles down at the photo on his screen, at the little flip-up of hair at the back of Adidas man’s neck. 

A couple more bands do come out for a meet & greet, but Louis stays with Frantic Lemons until they head backstage. Harry tries not to feel too disappointed. They didn’t even talk to each other really. 

The first band starts at 11am. It’s a little slower than they’d like, but they’ve got a good rhythm and the two singers harmonize together beautifully. 

When the second band starts, it’s like a frenzy hits the room. There are thirteen people on stage, either singing or playing instruments ranging from a guitar to a cymbal to a saxophone. They’ve got the energy to get the crowd going and it sets the tone for the next three bands. 

People start getting rowdy around band number six and that’s when Niall, Zayn and Harry decide it’s time to start drinking. They do a round of shots and take their vodka lemonades back to stand in the crowd. 

Band number eight calls for _“the biggest mosh pit we’ve ever seen let’s make some noiseeee”_ to which Niall and Zayn push their cups into Harry’s hands and jump in. Harry always hangs back at this part because he’s too clumsy on a normal day and he’s scared that if he lets himself truly flail about he’ll hurt himself (or someone else) more than he normally would. The one time he did jump into a mosh pit, some dude accidentally cut him beside his left eye with his teeth and he had to spend the next two hours in the medical tent. 

A couple songs later, Zayn and Niall find him again and he hands them back their drinks. 

Band number nine is kind of a letdown. It's the one Niall had gotten really into recently, but their songs aren’t nearly as memorable as they’re singing them live on stage. Other people seem to be having a good time, though, so the boys leave them to it and make their way to the bar for another round of shots and drinks. 

During band number eleven, Harry is dancing and laughing and having a great time when he nearly gets clocked upside the head by someone's foot as they crowdsurf. 

Somewhere during the last couple of bands, Harry had missed the men lining the front of the stage, all with bright yellow jackets and lanyards around their necks. They catch people as they ride the waves of the crowd’s hands and place them down in the little pathway just in front so they can get out and run back to do it all again. 

In the center right, Harry sees Liam as one of these catchers; he looks serious as he looks out into the crowd and even more serious as someone comes hurdling towards him. He picks the figure up with ease and deposits them safely on the other side of the make-shift fence. 

“Woah,” Zayn says, and when Harry looks he sees him watching the same thing. “I’m going to do that.” And then he turns to go more towards the back, presumably for a lift up. 

Niall just laughs loudly and continues dancing. Harry grabs him by the forearm. “Are you sure?” he asks. 

Zayn gives a small smile and nods, so Harry lets go, but stays facing the back so he can help Zayn along when he comes through. 

It takes a couple of minutes, but then people are throwing Zayn forward up in the air towards the stage, and Harry catches his smile. Heavy base line thrums through his feet up to his hands as he passes his friend along to the people in front of him. His heart drops slightly when it looks like they’ve dropped Zayn, but he’s back up, higher than ever. 

It only takes 8 more seconds for Zayn to end up in Liam’s arms. Harry can’t see Zayn’s face, but Liam’s expression finally breaks out in a smile from all the seriously. It only lasts a moment before he’s setting Zayn down and looking out for the next body. 

A few minutes later, Zayn is back by their sides, dancing harder than ever and screaming out the lyrics. He looks radiant, body probably full of adrenaline and endorphins. 

When the band ends, Zayn explains how it felt to be carried along. It’s not the first time he’s done it, but it’s the first time Harry’s been around to see it. 

“It’s like you know the hands are attached to people, but not really? And no one is groping you, they’re too busy worrying about you kicking them in the head to focus on that even if they were the kind of gross person to do it. And it’s just a give and take, really, almost exactly like surfing. Except it’s nothing like water, you know?” He smiles even more brightly then. “And it doesn’t hurt to know some strong arms are there to catch you.”

Niall is pumped and ready to give it a go, so he does it during the next set. He is infinitely less calm than Zayn was, and screams the whole way, like he’s on a rollercoaster or something. He lands in the arms of someone a few feet to the left from Liam and nearly punches them in the face trying to get out and run back out. 

It takes a moment for Harry to realize that he was caught by Adidas man. He looks nearly as serious as Liam, but even from standing back where he is, Harry can see him moving his mouth and laughing to the people he’s catching and setting down. Harry is concerned. Adidas man is so short and slight; he doesn’t think he’s big enough to catch all these people, especially ones so squirmy. 

“So small,” accidentally comes out of Harry’s mouth, and unfortunately Zayn hears him. He follows Harry’s line of sight and elbows Harry in the side suggestively. 

Niall comes back to them, only to say that he’s going again. He does and screams the same way, but also mixes in some of the song lyrics on this go around. He ends up in Liam’s arms this time, since the crowd has all the control of which direction he’s going, and seems to handle being moved better. 

“Go on, H, get up there! We’ll give you a lift right here!” Niall shouts at him when he returns a second time. 

Harry looks away from Adidas man, who was just smiling at a girl he set down, and shakes his head. “No, not a chance, Ni.”

“Ah, come on, live a little!” he shouts back.

“I have no control over my legs on solid ground, why d’you think I’ll be able to control them six feet up in the air?”

“It’s different,” Zayn offers. 

Harry just shakes his head again. 

“Alright mate,” Zayn says, nodding. “No pressure, obviously. Just thought it might be fun for you.” 

Harry draws his lips into a thin line and nods, looking back towards the stage. He thinks about all the things he’s said no to over the last couple of years in favor of work. All the things he’s wanted to do that he’s backed out on because he’s too busy or too tired. He thinks about what they said earlier, about having fun and living a little. 

Then he sees a tiny woman accidentally throw her head back and headbutt the dude below her. She cradles her head and shouts what looks like “sorry!” at him as people continue to pass her. And yeah, no. He doesn’t think this is the way to have his fun. 

By the time they reach the break before the final band --_“Kill ‘Em With Coolness! Finally! Woooooooo!” Niall shouts_\-- Niall and Zayn have both crowd-surfed half a dozen times each and Harry is dead tired just watching them. It’s nearing midnight and he doesn’t know how everyone has all this energy to be thrown around like this. 

Since they don’t want to lose their spot in the crowd, Zayn goes off and grab their next round of drinks while Harry and Niall save their spots. People crowd-in to try and fill up the empty space, but they do their best to hold their ground. 

“Hey,” Niall says. Harry looks over and Niall looks really, genuinely happy. “Thanks for this, H.”

Harry is confused. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Sure you did,” Niall says, smiling even wider. He seems a bit tipsy but not drunk. Niall can hold his liquor better than any of them, so he’s pretty sure of it. “You came! It’s been ages since we’ve had a real night out. Maybe even when we first talked about doing this. I’ve missed hanging out with you.”

Harry feels a pang in his chest. How badly has he been neglecting his friends?

“Of course, man, I’ve had a blast!”

“I know it must’ve been hard for you, and I kind of bullied you into it, so I’m sorry about that. But thank you so much for coming.” 

It might be sweat, but it also might be a tear in the outer crease of Niall’s eye. Harry can’t help but pull him in for a hug. “Come on Nialler, no need to get emotional on me.” Harry tries to laugh as he says it, but his voice cracks a bit. 

“I’m not emotional, you’re just dumb and don’t remember what it’s like to have a lads night out.” 

“Where is my hairbrush and facemask then?”

“That’s lads night _in,_Harry, don’t be a moron.”

Zayn comes back to them just as Harry and Niall break apart. He looks wary. “Did I miss the heart to heart?” he asks. Niall nods. “Oh thank god.” He hands them their drinks. 

The lights go down and the crowd goes a little wild with the shouting. Harry feels his energy somewhat renewed and he bounces in anticipation. 

KEWC has always been a little bit more pop-y than some of the other bands they’ve seen today, and it’s with good reason and good sounds behind it. The chords are crisp and the harmonies are in check. The entire place seems to vibrate like the strings of the guitars as the first note rips through the speakers. A strong start. 

The boys dance and laugh and sing, and Harry is tired but he’s also really happy. As their set continues, more and more people crowd surf, trying to get in all of their chances that they can. Both Zayn and Niall go again at different songs. 

He feels good, he feels tipsy, he feels happy. 

When a familiar tune starts to play, Harry downs the rest of his drink, hands Niall his cup and shouts, “I’m doing it!”

Niall and Zayn both cheer as Harry turns and makes his way back to the crowd. He looks sheepishly around trying to figure out how to actually _get up there_ when a tall blond dude looks at him and points up a little in a silent question. Harry nods, grateful, and in a hazy instant where he doesn’t fully know what’s happening, he gets lifted off of his feet, tipped back and he feels a dozen hands along his body. 

Some of where they touch him is ticklish, but it doesn’t feel as intense because he’s trying to focus on not falling and not kicking anyone. It’s hard to focus on either of those things, though, when the euphoria of being carried by a crowd to one of his favorite songs takes over and he can’t help but just enjoy it. 

It feels weird, to be passed along. Some people touch his bum, which feels _very_strange, and at one point he nearly spins onto his front from trying to overcorrect nearly falling, but he’s righted and people continue to throw him forward. 

As he hoped, he’s herded towards Adidas man, who catches sight of him and smiles really wide. Harry can’t help but smile back just as big. 

A couple of feet away, however, he almost topples again, and his heart feels like it’s broken through his chest with how fast it’s beating. His whole body tips back and his head nearly crashes into the floor below, when someone swoops in and cradles his neck so that doesn’t happen. He’s hoisted up, and then switched directions, headed for Liam’s open arms. 

Harry doesn’t really notice when he starts to pout in Adidas man’s direction until it’s too late, and Adidas man has caught him doing it. He nearly misses the woman that’s being catapulted into his arms as he looks at Harry. 

Harry looks forward as he’s nearly at the stage. Liam waves briefly as he recognizes Harry, and pulls him up and into his arms before putting him down on the other side. “Better hurry, mate,” Liam shouts at him, doing a couple of double takes back into the crowd to make sure he’s ready to catch when the time comes. “They’re about to start their last number.”

Harry runs around and does his best to get back to his friends, but everyone has moved up, trying to get closer to finish out the show, so he can’t see them easily. He makes his way to the very back, trying to find an opening, but can’t seem to find any space to move. 

The tall blond from before smiles at him, winks, and before Harry can process what’s happening, he’s being lifted again. He’s not prepared, so his feet shoot out from under him and he feels a solidness from the inside of his right foot, which can only mean he kicked someone. 

“Sorry! Sorry sorry sorry!” he shouts. But he’s moving forward, and undoubtedly the person he hit is too far behind him to hear his apologies. 

“Put me down, please!” he tries to shout, but unfortunately it gets eaten up by the screams of the crowd, who yell _I won’t ever put you down / No not ever in this town_, which is part of the chorus and Harry wants to scream but he laughs in frustration instead. 

He does his best to keep all his limbs together and tries to ask to be put down again, but someone just laughs and says, “You’re early on it!” thinking he means to be singing along. 

_Please never put me down, I’ll be lonely in this crowd if you dooooo_ croons out through the speakers. 

It’s quiet for a moment, as they all feel what the line means and, ultimately, what the song means. Harry has space to ask to be put down now, but it seems wrong to break a moment like this. 

He makes eye contact with Adidas man again and there’s a lull to the whole room as the group waits for the harsh guitar to start again and lead them into the final chorus. Adidas man starts to smile, slowly, running his eyes over Harry’s face to take in the sight. Harry’s heart races, and he thinks he’s about to smile, maybe, when he’s enveloped by sound all at once. 

The sound drop rips through the room and Harry is thrust forward even more harshly than before. The only problem is, it’s not towards anyone in particular, nearly right smack dab in the middle of Adidas man and Liam with not enough space for either of them to grab onto him. 

Harry tumbles, head first and wacks it off one of the wooden blocks the men are standing on and everything goes a bit fuzzy around the edges. “Ow,” he says to no one, and then the thank yous of the band are so loud in his ears he thinks he might have actually knocked himself against a speaker instead of a wooden block. 

The loud sound stops just as some strong arms pick him up, bridal-style, and hold him close. Harry threads an arm around the person’s neck --Liam, he thinks, must be Liam-- and holds the right side of his head with his other hand. 

After a few seconds of walking, he hears a heavy accent say, “You alright, love?”

And when Harry looks up, it’s to _blueblueblue_ eyes and it takes a moment to realize it’s Adidas man carrying him away. 

“Adidas man,” Harry says, oh-so-eloquently. 

He looks surprised by that, but laughs all the same. “Most people call me Louis, actually, but I do love a nickname.” 

Harry means to say, _Nice to meet you, Louis,_ or _Thank you for lifting me up, but I can take it from here,_ or _Gee, am_ I _ sure embarrassed by that_. 

He means to say any one of those or literally anything else, but instead he says, “Wow, _strong_,” as he squeezes Louis’ shoulder.

Louis laughs deeper at that. “I’m just going to have you checked out by our medic backstage to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

“I’ve had a concussion before,” Harry says. “This isn’t one. I don’t think.”

“Let’s check just to confirm, yeah?”

Harry nods and then rests his head in the crook of Louis’ neck. “As long as you don’t let go of me.”

“_I won’t ever put you down_,” Louis sings softly. 

“_Not now that you are found_,” Harry sings back. It’s not the words but it feels nice. Maybe he’ll suggest a change to Lily. They have photos together, so she has to trust his opinion, he thinks. 

Louis hums lowly and continues walking. It only takes half a minute to get to the medic and Louis sets him down. Harry protests weakly, but promptly shuts up when Louis just drops to his knees beside the chair so Harry still has his arm around his neck. 

Louis watches Harry and Harry watches Louis and they smile softly at each other until the medic asks Harry to look at him instead. Even then, Harry only looks away because Louis’ eyes flash away in a gesture that he should. 

The medic deems him non-concussed, but suggests staying up for several more hours just to be sure. And if he feels the slightest bit off in-between, to go to the hospital straight away. 

“Suppose it’s time for me to hand you back to your friends, then,” Louis says. 

“Or you could stay with me.”

Louis lets out a puffed laugh. “Unfortunately, Curly, I’ve still got a bit of work to do.”

“I can cover for you,” Liam’s voice says from beside them. 

Harry looks up and sees Liam’s face. When did he get here?

“Liam! When did you get here?”

“I’ve been here, mate. I handed you that bottle of water.” 

Harry looks and notices he’s got a bottle of water in his right hand. Good, he’s thirsty. “Ah, thank you, Liam.” 

“You sure, Lima?” Louis asks. 

“Yeah, if you want.” 

Louis takes a beat to look at Harry. “Is that what you want?”

Harry sort of tuned out from what they were saying, but he feels the correct answer is yes, so he says so. Louis nods and stands them both up and walks them to the door. 

Zayn is there twenty feet away, looking pissed off. Niall is watching him pace back and forth helplessly. 

“--swear I will _barge_ through there and get him _myself_ if he’s not out here in the next _thirty seconds._ Can’t _believe_ we weren’t allowed to see our own _best friend_ bunch of fucking _morons_trying to keep--” and then Zayn spots him being led by Louis and storms over to him. 

“What the _actual_fuck!” 

Harry curls into Louis and is about to apologize, but then Louis speaks. “Sorry, mate, it’s policy not to allow anyone back there, and I sort of got in trouble of bringing him to our medic instead of the audience medic.” 

When Harry looks up, Zayn is throwing daggers at Louis, and Niall has a hand on Zayn’s shoulder. 

“Alright, okay, at least H is okay, right?” Niall says to Zayn. And then he turns to Louis. “Thanks for looking after him.” 

“Yeah, of course. Doc said it doesn’t seem like he has a concussion, but it’s best to keep him up for a couple of hours to be sure.” 

Niall nods. “Gotcha. Alright, H, let’s get going. We’ll even stop at McDonalds on the way and get you some chicken nuggets, hows that sound?” He holds his arms out to Harry, for him to switch from using Louis’ shoulder to stand to his. It seems like Louis is shifting to make the transfer as well, but then Harry just curls into Louis’ body and locks both his arms around Louis’ neck. 

“Harry, come on now, let’s get you home, yeah?” Zayn tries. 

“_No_,” Harry says into Louis’ neck. He can feel the tug of Louis’ smile against the side of his head. 

“I’m sure this bloke’s got to get back to work, yeah? Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be. Maybe we can get his number so you can thank him tomorrow?”

“Erm, actually, my mate Liam said he’d cover for me to make sure Curly here was alright. I can leave you to it, of course, but just wanted to be sure you’re all on your way somewhere safe, at least.”

“No,” Harry says again. He slouches and buries himself further in Louis’ shoulder so he can seem smaller, and more like he needs to be taken care of. “Come with me.”

“Come with you where, Curly?” he asks. When he speaks, it vibrates through Harry’s body and the ripple of it is nice. He’s suddenly very aware of Louis’ hands: one on his upper arm and one pressed in the middle of his back. 

“Dunno. Are you hungry?” Harry asks. 

“Are _you_hungry?”

Harry pulls back to look at his face, and Louis is already looking down at him with a soft smile. “Louis, I am always hungry, in one sense or another.” 

Pink flushes against Louis’ cheeks, and Harry’s not quite sure why it happens but he likes it there. 

Niall speaks up again. “We were planning on going to this diner, originally, actually. It’s not too far from here.” 

It seems the invitation is implied, but Louis is still quiet, so Harry asks, “Do you want to come to the diner with us? They have pancakes and probably other stuff, too.” 

Louis smiles brilliantly at that. “Yeah, I’d love to come along, Curly.”

“I’d love for you to come, too.” He says back, and loosens his grip so they can start walking. There’s a deeper blush on Louis’ cheeks now and Harry finds he likes it even more than the first pink color. 

They end up walking over the couple of blocks, even though Harry stumbles a bit and has to lean on Louis extra hard. When Niall or Zayn offers their shoulders, Harry scoffs and tells them _you aren’t as strong as Louis, so why would I bother?_

The diner is busy with all the festival goers, but they get seated right away. When their waitress comes by, Louis asks for _a cup of black tea with a splash of milk, thanks love_ and Harry is so endeared, he says he’ll have the same, even though he hasn’t had tea in at least a year. 

Zayn and Niall both order burgers, and Harry orders pancakes. Louis says he isn’t hungry, really, but then Harry says, “Louis, it’s been a long day and you need something good _inside_of you” so Louis opens the menu and seemingly points to something random as he blushes again. 

The dish turns out to be spicy chicken and waffles and it looks so good that Harry stares at it when it comes out, trying to think of the best way to ask a new acquaintance for a bit of his meal. Turns out he doesn’t have to ask because Louis cuts off a bit and holds out his fork to Harry with a smirk. 

Harry squeals quietly (he hopes it’s quiet anyway) and takes the bite off of the fork Louis is holding. He makes eye contact when he pops off and smiles in thank you. 

Niall and Zayn talk about their favorite parts of the show and the bands they liked better live and the ones they didn’t expect to be so good. Louis chimes in with facts about the bands and the drama behind the scenes. He talks to Harry more than twice as often than he does at Niall or Zayn, even though he’s not the one asking follow up questions. Harry preens under the attention. 

Harry has eaten all of his pancakes and half of Louis’ chicken when the check comes. Zayn and Niall stand to go take care of the bill and when Louis offers up some money, they refuse. Zayn adds --begrudgingly-- that they appreciate him taking care of Harry when he fell. 

All in all, Harry’s feeling much better. His head is a bit clearer and he feels he can stop leaning against Louis the entire time, although he doesn’t much want to; he’s got a lovely strong body that he can’t help but take advantage of as long as Louis is offering.

Harry looks at Louis. He’s admiring the strong features in his face as Louis returns his gaze. Absentmindedly, Harry runs his finger through a leftover dollop of whipped cream and sucks it into his mouth. 

“Jesus Christ, Curly,” Louis squeaks and laughs. “You’re killing me, here.”

Harry furrows his brows. “What do you mean?” 

Louis doesn’t answer right away, so Harry takes another swipe of whipped cream while he waits. He accidentally got more of it on the back of his hand, so he licks his way up before popping the whipped cream covered finger into his mouth. 

Louis’ mouth drops a little and he licks his lips. “Are you being coy?”

“About what?” Harry asks. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“What?” he asks again.

“To go home together.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up a little in surprise. He wasn’t thinking about it, but now that Louis’ said it, he realizes that’s exactly what he wants. 

“Why not?”

“You may have a concussion--”

“I don’t.” Harry interrupts. 

Louis continues, “--and we don’t even know each other really.”

“Sure we do,” he counters. 

Louis laughs, a little exasperated. “Name one thing about me then.”

It’s a challenge, and Harry’s nothing if not always up for a challenge. It’s why he works so hard, and why he hasn’t taken that make breaks over the last couple of years. He always wants to be fighting for something, and this seems like a good thing to fight for. 

“You love nicknames, with anyone, but especially with people you like.” Louis’ mouth closes and his lips tilt up at the corners. “You haven’t called me by my name once, even though I know you’ve heard it, and you called the waitress _love_ and you called Liam _Lima_. You also like taking care of people, not just me but I saw the way you helped all those people on the other side of the stage. Like they were precious.” 

Louis nods and looks down at his empty plate. “You got--”

“I’m not done,” Harry says. Louis looks back up to him, blue eyes shining and a little confused. “You want to make a good impression on those around you, but you won’t sacrifice yourself. Zayn can be harsh, but you stood your ground and got to what _I_wanted and didn’t let yourself be pushed over by my friends.”

Harry takes a moment to notice Louis’ eyelashes, and the way they brush against the top of his cheekbones. 

“You’re also careful with yourself. All of our conversations here have been about other bands, and asking us questions, but you don’t say much about you. Because you want to protect yourself. And, Louis, I know I haven’t had the chance yet, but I’d like to protect you too.”

Louis swallows and his eyes flicker down to Harry’s lips. “Uhh,” he says. 

Harry scoots a little more towards Louis. “You took care of me so well,” he says, “let me take care of you.” 

“Uhh,” he says again, softer this time. And then he leans in, eyes focused on Harry’s mouth as he does so. Harry matches and leans in as well. 

And it’s that moment that Niall returns to them, rapping against the tabletop. “Right, boys, shall we get going?”

It shocks Louis enough that he pulls himself back quickly as Harry is still leaning in. 

“Niall,” Zayn hisses from behind him. 

“What?” he asks, looking back. But then Zayn is just shaking his head into a hand resting on his forehead and pulling Niall away from the table with the other hand. 

“Will you walk me home?” Harry asks, when his friends are backed up a few feet. 

Louis just looks at him for a moment. “Uhh.” He looks back and Zayn and Niall, who suddenly are pretending to be super engrossed with the bulletin board by the door. Quieter, Louis answers, “Yeah, alright.” 

Harry smiles and they stand from the table. 

Walking him home was a bit of a white lie, because they make their way towards the train. When Louis raises an eyebrow at him, Harry simply smiles, grabs his hand, and says, “I thought it might be too cliche to say _take_me home.” Louis shakes his head at Harry, but he hopes it’s at least a little fond. 

“Suppose I did say I wanted to make sure you got somewhere safe, didn’t I?”

“It’s also okay if you’d rather not, now,” Harry says, sincerely. “I’d understand.”

Louis continues to shake his head, but a bit of a smile pops out. “You have no idea how much I want to, Curly.” 

Harry grips his hand a little tighter as he tried to fight back more of his smile. It doesn’t really work, and they end up grinning at each other like idiots. 

Two stops ahead of his, Niall and Zayn go in for hugs, and Zayn whispers he’s staying at Nialls for the night, and then louder says that he’ll see him in the morning for breakfast. It’s already 3am, but Harry figures it’s his way of letting Louis know they could be by at any minute, in case Louis is actually a murderer or something. 

The walk from the train stop to his apartment is less than five minutes, and Harry has never been more grateful for the shortness of it. The air around them seems to be full of electricity and want and he can’t wait to just _touch_ Louis like he’s been so eager to, since he first lifted Harry up into his arms. 

They make it outside of his building and Harry says, “Kiss me.” 

Louis looks amused. “Right here?”

“Yeah,” he breathes and pulls Louis closer to him. “Because as soon as we get upstairs, I might not be able to let go. Kiss me here and make sure that you want to.” 

Louis shakes his head at him again, but looks at Harry’s mouth, licks his lips and leans in a bit. Harry leans in the rest of the way and his lips tingle with the sensation. The pressure is light, but in a good way, where anything could happen next. 

Louis backs Harry up to the brick of the building and puts his hands on Harry’s chest. Harry’s hands go to Louis’ waist and drag him in closer. A soft grunt comes through Louis’ parted lips at the surprise of it, and it’s enough that Harry can lick into his mouth, asking for permission. 

Sighing into it, Louis parts his and bites down a little on Harry’s bottom lip, sliding his hands up and over his shoulders. 

“Definitely,” Louis says. 

“Hm?” Harry asks, chasing after Louis’ mouth as one of his hands flattens at the top of his bum. 

“Definitely want to.”

They get inside the building and up the stairs, but not without stopping at each and every landing to make out some more. When they get to Harry’s apartment door, he pushes Louis into it as he fumbles with his keys, and then he drops them as Louis rubs his hand along the hard line of his cock through his pants. 

Louis rubs again and Harry moans into his mouth, not bothering to lean down and grab the keys off the floor, knowing that the sensation will stop if he does. 

“Curly,” Louis murmurs against his mouth. “H,” he says, but it’s more of a sigh, and that causes Harry to push him back against the door more firmly. “Harry,” he says, moving his mouth and hand away. 

Harry whines at the loss of heat and spark, but he moves his lips down to Louis’ neck to keep himself distracted. 

“You can’t fuck me out here,” Louis says quietly. 

And Harry stutters a breath on the top of his shoulder at that. 

“You can in there, though, so pick up your goddamn keys and get me _inside_.” 

Harry leans down and picks up the keys. Louis’ hand goes back to his crotch when he does so. 

“You know what happens when you get me inside?” Louis whispers as Harry struggles to separate the apartment key from all his others. _Why does he have so many keys?!_ He finds the correct one and slots it into the lock. “When you get me inside," Louis continues, “you can then get inside of _me_.”

He turns the key abruptly and they topple through the door. Harry ends up hovering over Louis, arm wrapped tightly around his lower back as Louis loops his arms around his shoulder and abdomen like they’re in a loose hug. They make eye contact for a long moment and then they start to giggle at each other. Harry leans down to kiss Louis again as he kicks the door closed as softly as he can. 

They somehow manage to stand, and Harry walks Louis backwards towards his bedroom. They break apart for a moment so Louis can get Harry’s shirt off, and they crash into a bookshelf right before he drops it to the ground. 

They’re making a lot of noise and Harry is grateful Zayn decided to sleep at Niall’s. Now he doesn’t have to feel bad about how loud they’re going to get. Because he does intend to get Louis _very_loud, if he can. 

When they’re in the bedroom, Louis turns them around so that Harry is the one who falls backwards onto the bed. He leans over and continues to kiss him, making quick work of the button on his skinny jeans and then laughing at the amount of time and effort it takes to pull said skinny jeans off of him. 

“Ridiculously long legs,” Louis says, tracing his fingers light up his thighs when the jeans have been thrown to the side. Harry scoots back on the bed so he’s in the center of it and Louis hovers over him. His fingertips pull at the waistband of his boxers and he asks, “May I?” and Harry nods and Louis peels them off and throws them to the side. 

Louis licks his palm and lets a lose hand circle Harry’s cock. “Oh fuck yes,” Harry says. He grips the duvet on either side of his body and tries not to think about the fact that it’s been _nearly a year_since someone touched him like this. 

“You know, you told me an awful lot about myself earlier, but I didn’t get to tell you anything about you,” Louis says. He varies the pressure along his cock and swipes evenly at the head of it, causing Harry to moan, long and low. 

“Tell me,” Harry says. He feels so vulnerable, laid out naked in front of Louis, while he’s fully clothed. But it gets him hot, too, with the contrast of it. 

“You’re really kind,” Louis says. Harry lets out a small groan and and can feel himself flush from his cheeks to the top of his chest. “I was backstage, looking out into the crowd earlier, and I saw a couple of blokes heckle an act on stage. And you told them to stop. I believe I saw your lips mouth the words _‘That’s not very nice’_and my heart nearly melted.”

“And then,” Louis continues. “I realized how much fun you have. You’re not a very good dancer, Curly, but you don’t need to be, the way you move. You move to have fun, and to have a laugh.”

Harry lets out a small laugh then, but it disappears into another moan as Louis leans forward and licks at the very tip of his cock, right into the slit of it. A bubble of precum slips out and Louis leaned in to lick that up to. 

“Mmm,” he says. “I thought about your body moving that way with me. Nearly came in my pants when you did that body roll.” 

And Harry knows it’s an exaggeration, but god does that turn him on, thinking about getting Louis all hot and bothered without him even knowing it. “Louis, Lou, let me touch you.”

“You wanna touch me, love?”

Harry nods furiously and moves his hands up to Louis’ thighs, gripping them tightly. “Yeah, want to make you feel good.”

“Want to get something good inside of me?”

“Yeah,” Harry moans at him, sitting up a bit so he can flip them over. He unbuttons Louis’ jeans, and they have way less trouble getting them off. Louis whips off his Adidas t-shirt and Harry smiles as it goes flying across the room. “May I?” he mimics Louis’ words from earlier. Louis smiles and nods his head. 

Harry rids him of his boxer briefs and wastes no time licking up the underside of Louis’ hard cock before taking him down slowly until he’s buried deep in Harry’s mouth. Louis gasps out at the sensation and threads his fingers through Harry’s hair. 

“Is this what you meant?”

Harry hums his question, since he doesn’t want to let Louis out of his mouth now. The vibrations cause Louis to moan again, and lift a leg up so it’s bent beside Harry’s head. 

“When you said you were always hungry in one sense or another?” Louis clarifies. Harry laughs around Louis’ length at that and slurps up the excess saliva that’s dripped down. 

“Fingers, H, fingers,” he moans out. “Want to feel you.” 

Harry reluctantly pulls off to go to his nightstand and grab his lube and condoms. He gets back to it as soon as he can, taking his length down again in one go and uncapping the lube to spread it on three fingers as quickly as he can. He rubs them together to warm it up, and then is teasing against Louis’ hole. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs. And when one of them breeches the first ring of muscle, a longer, “_Fuck yes._”

Harry pops off to take a breath and to ask, “Yeah?”

“_Yeah_,” Louis answers. Harry pushes his middle finger all the way in, thrusting it in and out a few times before taking his cock again. 

Harry keeps it up for a couple of minutes before adding a second one. When he gets three fingers deep, Louis winces a little, so Harry sucks a little more intently at the head of his cock to balance the sensations. It only takes another minute before Louis is pulling at Harry’s hair to get him to come up as he’s saying, “Put your cock in me, make me come from it.” 

And who is Harry to say no to him?

He’s still just as hard as he was when Louis was jerking him off, but he gives a couple of strokes just for show as he looks Louis over. Louis’ eyes sparkle as he palms himself, matching Harry stroke for stroke. His fringe is a bit sweaty, sticking to his forehead, and Harry can’t help but murmur _fuck_ before dipping down to kiss him. Louis lets him, but only for a few seconds before he’s grappling for the condom beside them and ripping it open. 

Harry removes his hand and places both palms face down on the bed to hold himself up as Louis slowly rolls the condom down his length. When it’s on, Louis strokes his thumb over the tip and Harry closes his eyes in a gasp. 

Louis bends his legs up further and opens them in a wide ‘V’ to give enough space for Harry to line up. Louis guides him and teases himself for a moment with the tip of Harry’s cock over his hole before pulling him down by the small of his back, letting him know it’s okay to push in. 

Harry does, but slowly, focusing on Louis’ face as he does so. It’s pulled together in concentration, but not pain and his head slowly tips back as Harry gets deeper and deeper. 

When he’s a little more than halfway in, Louis huffs out a breath and says, “You’re proper massive. Should’ve known with all your long arms and long legs.”

Harry laughs a little at that. “Hopefully not as clumsy with this as I am with those.”

Louis smiles and licks his lips, leaning up for a kiss that Harry happily meets him for. When he pulls back, he says, “Alright come on now, I want to feel every bit of you inside of me.” 

“Well I don’t know if my entire _body_can fit--”

“--oh shut _up_\--”

“--since you’re _quite_small--”

“--oi! Fuck you, I’m big!--”

“--but we’ll see if you can take all of my cock for now.”

Louis brings his hand up to curl into Harry’s locks and pulls roughly. Harry just moans a little at that and accidentally dicks in a little more quickly. Louis lets out a small yelp and then a giggle. “Oh, we like a little hair pulling, do we?”

He does it again to get another reaction, and Harry tries to keep his pelvis in check this time. He can’t help but bite his lip to stifle the noise. “Yeah,” he breathes. 

Louis pulls again, but gentler this time. “Come on, love, I think you’re nearly there.”

It take another little bit, each pausing to kiss the other in the breaks between, but Harry is fully in and can hardly breathe now that he doesn’t have Louis’ comfort to concentrate on.

He drops his head to Louis’ cheek. “You’re so hot and tight.” Louis clenches a little and is rewarded with a low moan. “Please, please tell me you’re ready.”

Louis scratches his head from his hairline to the nape of his neck and says, “Move, Hazza.”

Harry lets out a relieved groan and he gently starts rocking in and out of Louis. 

“Mmm _yes_ ,” he says. Harry is emboldened by it and starts rocking a little faster. “Oh _fuck_.”

“Too much?” Harry asks. 

“No. Don’t you _dare_slow down.” 

Harry smirks. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Louis grips the hair at the back of Harry’s head with one hand and runs a hand down his back with the other. Before Harry realizes what’s happening, one of Louis’ fingers ghosts over Harry’s hole and it makes him cry out and drop to his elbows. 

The change in angle does something for Louis, who clutches Harry’s ass cheek, throws his head back and a deep guttural sound comes out of him. He’s close, with Harry pounding into him and friction between their two bellys, which turns Harry on even more and he moves faster, savoring the little uh-uh-uhs Louis’ making as he pounds into him. 

“M’close,” Louis says, sucking in a breath. 

“Me too,” Harry says. They kiss messily, more teeth than anything else, but it feels just as good as all their other kisses. 

On a particularly deep thrust, Louis squeezes at Harry’s hair and around his cock and he shoots thick white strings along his stomach. Louis’ clenching like Harry is a vice, which feels like heaven, but it’s the little wrecked _ahhh_that pushes Harry over the edge. He spills inside the condom, inside of Louis, with a low sound that he’s never heard himself make before. 

They catch their breaths and Harry doesn’t even dare to look at Louis for fear he’ll come again at the sight, and he doesn’t think his poor cock could handle it so soon.

“Mmm,” Louis hums. He pets Harry’s hair, soothing him down. 

“Yeah,” Harry says. And finally he has enough strength to pull out, flop down beside Louis as he pulls the condom off and ties it. It’d take too much energy to try and remember where the bin is, at this point, so he just tosses it over the side of the bed.

Louis laughs as he says, “Gross.” And then he squeals as Harry rolls over so he’s half on top of him, nibbling at his jawline. “_Harryyy_,” he laughs again. “I’m all sweaty and dirty.” 

“Mmm, so dirty,” Harry says, nipping at his earlobe and then licking at the side of his face. 

Louis giggles and goes to rub his palms up and down the side of Harry’s neck. “So,” he says.

“So,” Harry says back. 

“Um, I know I’m on tour with the festival and all.”

Harry sits up a little on his left elbow to look at Louis as he speaks. He nods, encouraging him to continue. 

“And normally I’d just say, _thanks for the dick it was fun_ but um…”

Harry’s heart does a little jump at the _but_and pulls him up a little further on the bed to hover over him, look into his eyes. 

Louis blushes and throws an arm across his face so his eyes are covered. “Nevermind.”

“No, what were you going to say? _Please_, Louis, please tell me.”

He slowly peaks one eye out from behind his wrist and chances a glance at Harry, who can already tell he’s absolutely beaming down at Louis from the way his cheeks hurt and his eyes nearly shut. “Well. We’re headed just a few towns over for the next show tomorrow. And I, uh, was wondering... if I got you passes, if you’d like to see the show again?”

See the show again, which means see _Louis_again. 

Harry doesn’t think it’s physically possible, but he must smile wider from the way Louis reacts; even pinker, but practically all of his teeth showing. He must not answer soon enough though, because Louis adds, “I’ll give you three, to bring along Niall and Zayn as well. Think Liam took quick a liking to your smoldering friend, anyway, and I’m sure he’d appreciate the set up if Zayn is down.” 

“I’ll go on one condition,” Harry says, holding up his index finger. 

Louis nods at him, a small crease in his eyebrows, trying to anticipate what Harry could possibly ask of him. 

“You have to promise," Harry starts seriously, and then he cracks a grin and starts singing, "to _never put me down, or I’ll be lonely in this crowddd._”

Louis bursts out laughing and then a couple lines later, he joins in Harry’s little bedtime concert. They sing it all the way through. 

And with a laugh like that, how was he ever supposed to go back to work the next day?


End file.
